


By Licorice and Lime

by TheMarvelousMadMadamMim



Series: This Spell We Cast [4]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Day 20, Day 8, F/F, Praise Kink, TWW Valentines Lemon!Fest 2019, Yo I've already established that my kink is healthy supportive relationships, look Ada Cackle is just a helpful person ok, whoo boy this some smut, working through issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 02:49:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17696204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim/pseuds/TheMarvelousMadMadamMim
Summary: Hecate wants to be more vocal during sex. Ada wants to help, naturally.For TWW Valentine Lemon!Fest.Day Eight Prompt: Praise.Day Twenty Prompt: Sound.





	By Licorice and Lime

**Author's Note:**

> While the majority of these stories are not connected (to each other or my Hackle Summer Trope Series), this one is part of the Hackle Summer Trope Series universe, and therefore connected to By Elder and Willow. This particular scene takes place shortly after Neither Timid Nor Tame (late December, Mildred's third year), and several months before By Elder and Willow (May 1, so about 4.5 months later). Roughly around late January, for those who care?

“You know you want to,” Ada’s voice is a low tease—and of course, she’s right. Hecate gives a small huff of frustration, but it’s directed at herself more that the woman currently holding her.

Her entire body is shaking, humming with a frenetic energy that makes her forget to breathe. It doesn’t help that the air is still thick from the steam of their shower, tinged with the scent of the dill that Ada hangs from the showerhead, settling heavily on skin that’s wet from a mixture of water and sweat.

She’s caught in a whirlpool of competing sensations—the coolness of the tile beneath her, the slick heat of Ada’s body behind her, around her, the thickness of the air and the lightness of her brain, the deafening silence of the room and how the small sounds of their heavy breaths seem to reverberate too harshly—but that’s exactly why they’re here, isn’t it?

Hecate Hardbroom has never really repressed her attraction to women, to witches, to feminine beauty and its overwhelming power. She’s never denied herself the touch of her own hand, has never seen her needs as anything to feel shame over, has never punished her body for its reactions. She’s never been a prude about the fantasies of her partners, has never once denied Ada a chance to try something new, has never met exploration and experimentation with anything less than at least mild curiosity.

But there is one thing that seems impossible. Something her body simply will not allow without an absolute fight.

Ada had noticed very early on. One evening, she had pointed it out with gentle hesitancy, as if she feared Hecate’s response. _You know, I don’t think I have ever been with anyone who comes as quietly as you do._

It hadn’t been a criticism, but the words still stung. Hecate had shrugged, feigned drollness and offered her usual explanation: she’d begun her sexual exploration during her school years, when being quiet was an important element of not getting caught with a spare girl in your bed after lights out. The habit had just…stayed, after all these years.

_Does that bother you?_ Hecate had asked. Ada had shaken her head and assured her that it wasn’t a problem, not at all _._

_I’ll take you, however you come._ Ada had winked, the double-entendre of her words far too blatant to be missed. And truly, Ada hadn’t shown any less enthusiasm during their subsequent couplings.

But it _did_ begin bother Hecate. She became hyper aware of herself, while making love to Ada, too caught up in her own head to truly enjoy the moment. The more she thought about it—yes, even the harder she tried _not_ to think about it—the worse it became. Ever true to her nature, Hecate just decided to avoid the situation, to just maneuver every intimate encounter so that she was simply giving, never receiving pleasure.

That lasted a laughably short time. Ada Cackle enjoyed every inch of Hecate Hardbroom’s body, and it didn’t take her long to realize that she was being denied full access to it.

_That_ had been an awful and awkward conversation. Ada had wondered if Hecate was slowly retreating from their relationship, somehow regretting this amazing, wonderful shift between them. Hecate had nearly died then and there, completely broken by the thought that she’d ever made Ada doubt how impossible such a thing could be.

So Hecate had been forced to admit the truth: she absolutely, completely wanted to be more vocal during sex, to be able to let Ada hear just how electrifyingly wonderful she made her feel, with every single touch, and yet…she had no idea _how_. Her body simply revolted against the idea.

And so here they were: on the floor of Ada’s private bathroom, Ada seated against the wall with Hecate sitting between her legs, leaning back against her as Ada’s hands slowly tease her towards release, gently urging her to let go.

And oh, how Hecate wants to do just that.

“It’s so—it’s too loud in here,” Hecate points out, forcing herself to take a deep breath. She conveniently forgets that she was the one who chose this particularly location, thinking the smaller room would be more comforting, less open.

Ada merely hums, “We have all the necessary spells set, Hecate. I’m the only one who can hear you. Do you think I would want it any other way?”

The warm possessiveness in Ada’s tone sends another shiver rippling down Hecate’s spine. She hears the shudder in her own breath, bouncing against the tiled walls.

Her hair is still in its usual bun, giving Ada full access to her neck and shoulders—Ada’s mouth is leaving a line of hot, deep kisses along the taut lines, and Hecate’s chest tightens with a silent whimper. Ada’s hands are slipping back up, massaging Hecate’s breasts, which tingle with relief from her touch.

Hecate’s throat tightens against the sound rumbling from her chest, head ducking to let out an audible breath.

“There we go,” Ada’s smiling, Hecate can tell without even looking. “That’s a good start.”

Hecate can’t deny the way Ada’s proud tone kicks up the fire in her hips. Her face is hot, skin feeling too tight from the humidity, but still she closes her eyes and focuses on Ada’s hands, strong and reassuring as they tease her nipples, focuses on slowly pulling the air from her lungs and pushing it out of her throat.

“Good girl,” Ada’s legs tighten around Hecate’s, a small squeeze of reassurance.

“This is ridiculous,” Hecate flops her head back, letting it fully rest on Ada’s shoulder. She feels so…inept, needing to be coached through something a simple as a fucking moan—she’s a powerful witch with half a century under her belt, why the hell should this even be a problem? Why can’t she simply _do_ the thing?

“It doesn’t _feel_ ridiculous,” Ada informs her, taking advantage of Hecate’s current position to sample the side of her neck with her teeth. Her mouth travels higher, nipping the lobe of Hecate’s ear lightly before hotly whispering, “I think if feels delicious, knowing we’re doing something you’ve never done with anyone else before.”

Oh. Hecate hasn’t really thought of it like that—well, _of course_ , she’d thought about the fact that she’d always been quiet with her other partners, but not in the same context as Ada. Ada’s view is…inviting. After all, she adores giving Ada gifts, both physical and emotional.

Ada must have read her thoughts, because she gently adds, “This isn’t some obstacle to overcome, Hecate. It’s simply…a new thing to try. An adventure.”

Ada’s voice is low and soothing, her right hand sliding down Hecate’s torso, fingers delicately opening Hecate’s folds again.

Hecate gives a small huff, core already tightening in anticipation.

“A little more,” Ada commands quietly, landing another light kiss on the spot where Hecate’s jaw meets her neck.

The next sound is only slightly louder, immediately cut off by the involuntary tightening of Hecate’s throat.

“Better,” Ada rewards her by slipping a single finger through the wet heat, tracing her way back up to Hecate’s clit. Her finger hovers over it, so close that Hecate can feel the heat of Ada’s skin, and she aches for more pressure.

Hecate’s head dips forward again, a small whine rumbling in her chest. Goddess, it takes more effort than it should, but Ada’s finger presses into her clit, and any self-criticism is drowned under a wave of fire and relief.

“Breathe, Hecate.” Ada’s other hand is slipping up, gripping her shoulder, which is set with such tension that realizes she has indeed been holding her breath. “Don’t hold it in. Let it out, darling, let it out.”

Hecate pushes out a long, low groan, thighs shaking under the constant, steady pressure of Ada’s touch. Her toes are curling on the cold, slippery tile, a complete juxtaposition to the hot way her skin sticks to Ada’s when she leans back again.

“Good, good girl,” Ada is biting her way back down Hecate’s neck, paying extra attention to pulse points. One particularly hard suck sends Hecate lurching forward, curling inward.

A sharp cry reverberates through the small space. It sounds awful and painful, nothing like the sensations that induced it. Hecate gives a hiss of displeasure at her own voice.

“Stay with me,” Ada commands, pulling Hecate upright again, hands pressing Hecate’s thighs to open wider. Her hands stay on the soft, smooth flesh, fingers kneading deep into the muscles. Each roll of Ada’s hands sends a wave through Hecate’s core. She can feel herself filling with her own wetness, her muscles hot and tensing with need.

This time, the whine slips easily from her throat—but it’s a sound she’s made before, countless times. She hasn’t been exactly mute, in the past (particularly in the past with Ada, who turns her animal, who makes her growl and whine and whimper in the best of ways), but that’s not what they’re going for. She wants to scream, wants to let Ada know exactly how perfect her touches are, exactly how much she affects Hecate, exactly how much Hecate loves the things Ada does to her and for her and with her.

Hecate’s hands clutch at Ada’s hips, fingers sinking into the soft flesh and giving her a slight distraction from the torturous build of Ada’s hands on her own thighs. Ada’s legs squeeze against her again, encouraging and reassuring, and Hecate could cry, feeling so perfectly surrounded and supported by this woman, in all ways. She could also cry from absolute frustration at her own ineptitude, but she tries not to focus on that part.

She tilts back again, pressing her shoulders further into Ada, closing her eyes and focusing on the heat of their skin together, the steady strength of Ada’s fingers, the softness of Ada’s body underneath her hands, the gentle gust of Ada’s breath across her shoulder.

Ada continues massaging Hecate’s thighs, smiling slightly at the way the brunette begins to rock with the movements of her hands, the tension building in the body currently pressed into her own. Hecate becomes an absolute frantic mess when she’s being teased in this way, but she loves it—and Ada loves it, loves the feeling of knowing just how deeply she affects this woman, just how perfectly she has her number, just how well-matched they are in the feelings they inspire in each other.

She places a small kiss on Hecate’s skin again, tasting the first hint of sweat mingling with the moisture from their shower. When Hecate had first confessed her issues with being vocal, Ada had felt a mixture of emotions: relief in knowing that this strangeness between them had a solution, sadness that Hecate was denying herself pleasure because of fear, and finally, a thrill of delight, because here was a chance to prove that she could be just as supportive as Hecate had been to her. And the thought of having Hecate Hardbroom, queen of all control, willingly relinquishing said control and putting herself entirely in Ada’s hands, well…that had definitely been an incentive as well.

More than anything, though, was the fact that she’d seen the way Hecate’s eyes had shone with desperation when she’d told Ada of how it had begun to affect her, how it kept her from simply being with Ada in a moment of love and pleasure—and Ada would do anything, go to battle with any inner demon, to take that look away from those dark eyes she loved so deeply. She hadn’t lied when she had told Hecate that her quietness didn’t bother her. It was fascinating, how Hecate fluttered and trembled with barely a sound, absolutely perfect in every way. But Hecate wanted something new, and Ada wanted to give it to her. The realization that Hecate wanted this as yet another gift to give Ada, as a way to show Ada how much she enjoyed making love with her, only strengthened Ada’s resolve.

Hecate slides further down Ada’s chest, chasing the heavy pressure of Ada’s touch, desperately wishing it was applied to other parts of her body. Ada turns her head slightly, whispering in Hecate’s ear again. “Tell me.”

Hecate gives a small, frantic huff, her shoulders stiffening against Ada as she pushes out a slightly louder sound, the desire and the need in it sending another bolt of heat straight to Ada’s core.

Ada’s hands shift, moving slightly inward, closer to where Hecate wants, but not quite. “Good girl. You’re doing so well, love. Keep going. Keep telling me how much you want this.”

The adoration and praise in Ada’s tone ripples through Hecate’s body like a wave of fire. She hears a long, low moan filling the room, and with a flash of surprise, realizes it came from her.

“Wonderful, wonderful,” Ada is kissing the shell of Hecate’s ear, breath tickling against her skin. Her thighs are tightening around Hecate again, and the brunette thinks of the way her own sounds are affecting Ada, and her body flashes with fire and desire anew. “Don’t stop, don’t—”

Hecate’s chest is still tight, but the next moan is easier, somehow. Like how flexing her foot when she gets a calf cramp somehow makes the tension more bearable—each breath, each noise eases the hardness in her lungs, making the next one less of a fight.

Ada’s hands are now at the joints of her hips, each roll of her fingers opening Hecate again, each movement only fueling the heat in her core, a divine torture she wars between wanting to end and to last forever.

Hecate’s whining again, head arching back against Ada’s shoulder, and Ada makes her move, left hand swooping up to hold Hecate’s chest, keeping her firmly in place as her mouth comes back to the pulse point on that beautifully strained neck, sucking and chasing the taste of sweat. She hums in amused approval at the way of Hecate’s body involuntarily jerks forward, not really moving under Ada’s grip. Ada’s right hand is still on Hecate’s thigh, shifting further away from Hecate’s center, fingers pressing into the soft flesh with almost punishing strength.

It’s absolute torture. Hecate can’t lean forward, can’t curl in to the touch, can’t leave the overwhelming assault of Ada’s teeth and tongue—she’s a butterfly on the most exquisite pins, body swirling and simmering with frantic, frenetic need and not a drop of relief in sight. Her thighs shift inward, her body attempting to process the over-stimulation, but Ada’s legs easily hook underneath hers, pushing outwards again, opening her with a dominant force that pushes more wet heat deep into Hecate’s hips.

And oh, the sounds she’s making now. Loud and desperate, almost hyperventilating, but she’s got enough air, oh there’s too much air, her lungs are so full, so loose and open and filled with glorious air, glorious air pushing back out in glorious sounds. Her fingertips are digging into Ada’s hips still, the only thing she can do to keep from diving into herself, touching all the places that are pounding and aching with need. She wants to move, to rock her hips, to do anything to ease this ecstatic tension, but Ada has her completely helpless, and the only this she can do is moan, moan and cry and pant and plead with wordless sounds.

The tiles are echoing, sound cascading over sound, rippling with desperate desire, thick with heat. Hecate wants to laugh—this is how she has wanted to sound, how she has wanted to assure Ada that her touches are electric, that her love is overwhelming, mind-blowing in every detail.

Ada’s mouth finally leaves Hecate’s skin, her own voice breathless with delight, “Beautiful, beautiful girl. Listen to how lovely you sound. Keep telling me how you feel.”

Her right hand slips closer to Hecate’s center, and the younger woman is whimpering in relief before her finger even slips inside the soaking wet heat. Ada slowly adds a second finger and Hecate practically sobs, the sound loudly bouncing to the ceiling. Her fingers are rippling into Ada’s hips, encouraging her to continue.

“More, please,” Hecate begs, still trying to lean forward, to press harder into those wonderful fingers, but Ada’s left arm keeps her in place. Ada obliges, slipping in a third finger and slowly beginning to move inside of Hecate.

“Listen to that,” Ada commands quietly, letting the room fall silent for a moment so that Hecate can hear the sound of Ada’s hand sliding in and out of her, the slickness making the kind of delicious sounds that has Ada pressing her own lips together to keep from moaning in delight. Instead, she plants another row of kisses along the line of the strong shoulders she loves so well, shoulders that have been tensed over her, holding her down and fucking her with the same intensity that she’s currently pressing into Hecate. Her own body surges and swirls with a cocktail of memory and desire.

Hecate must sense this, because she’s arching back, trying to press further into Ada’s hips, to repay her for the way she’s making Hecate’s feel now. It’s delicious, but Ada is a woman on a mission, and that’s not part of the plan. So she slips her fingers out of that beautiful silken heat, smiling mischievously as the way her lover huffs and whines at the loss.

“Did you like that?” She asks coyly, well-aware of the answer.

“Yes, oh, yes of course yes, please,” Hecate’s words tumble out so quickly that Ada can barely understand them. She tilts her head back, presses further into Ada’s arm—she doesn’t want to break free, she just wants to feel the strength of Ada, to feel just how trapped she is in this woman’s love. Her breaths are ragged and she can’t even attempt to open her eyes.

“Show me,” Ada reminds her, letting her middle finger make a lazy, meandering path through Hecate’s folds, relishing the way Hecate’s body tenses with anticipation.

“Ada,” Hecate’s voice is a plea, a prayer. Ada’s legs push a little wider open, forcing Hecate’s to do the same as her finger presses into the taut bundle of nerves. Hecate’s hips buck, barely able to move in her current position, and the sound that spills from her throat is absolutely divine. Hungrily, Ada chases the sound, pressing harder into Hecate’s clit and relishing the needy relief that claws up the walls of the bathroom, Hecate’s voice so forceful in its femininity that it makes Ada’s head spin. She pulls back, keeps her touch light, barely enough to be felt, just enough to send flickers of heat through Hecate’s hips, teasing but never relieving.

“ _Show_ me,” Ada uses her headmistress tone, knowing exactly how the brunette will react. Hecate shudders, letting the movement push out a ripple of sound from her lungs, and Ada feels a wave of delight at how easily it comes for her lover this time. And while she certainly had no issue with how Hecate expressed her pleasure before tonight, she has to admit that the sensation of hearing Hecate’s moans and cries is meltingly erotic. Hecate is fully leaning into her for support, the weight of her body on Ada’s reassuring, the sticky heat of her skin searingly electric against her lover's, the scent of Hecate enveloping her senses, and the air still vibrates with the sounds from Hecate’s lips, making Ada feel completely immersed in every aspect of the woman.

Hecate’s entire body pricks with another wash of heat—she’s absolutely covered in sweat now, on fire for Ada’s voice and Ada’s touch and Ada’s praise. Long before they even so much as kissed, Hecate had been well aware of how Ada’s tone could affect her, and after they’d crossed into more intimate territory, she’d explored that particular effect before, but nothing has compared to this.

And now Ada is tightening her grip on Hecate, with arm and thighs, making Hecate feel safe and desired, whispering words of encouragement across her skin, and all Hecate wants to do is prove herself worthy of that love, that praise, to do whatever is necessary for more. She had been slightly embarrassed at that particular kink, had never let other lovers know about it—but of course, Ada had figured it out, hadn’t even blinked, had played to that desire the very first time they’d ever made love, had made Hecate feel as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And oh, how Hecate had loved her all the more for it.

In a heady moment of clarity, Hecate wonders why she ever thought this experience would be anything less than that, how she could have ever doubted Ada’s desire to make her feel seen, Ada’s ability to make every part of her feel valid and worthy of expression. She feels a bubbly rush of adoration in her chest, and this time, it’s quite literally easy as breathing to express it, letting the sounds slip out without thought or conscious effort at all.

“Oh, beautiful,” Ada breathes into her neck again, rewarding her with a slightly harder press on her clit, sending a flash of relief through Hecate’s hips. “Such a good girl.”

The corner of Hecate’s mouth curls into a proud smirk, and Ada loves her for it, loves her own ability to inspire it.

“Now,” Ada’s hand begins to move faster, with heavier intent. “I want you to really let go, love. Just let go.”

It isn’t a hard command to follow, as the sudden change in speed and pressure skyrockets Hecate’s blood, veins filling with shooting stars. Hecate starts panting, pushing herself to be louder, to make Ada prouder, barely able to hear Ada’s words of praise over the sound of her own lips. Before she can even really realize it, an orgasm rips through her body and she cries out, the volume of the sound filling her with immeasurable joy. Ada’s legs slide out from underneath Hecate’s, releasing her, but her hand sinks lower, fingers pushing deeply inside Hecate again without preamble, and she involuntarily tightens around Ada again, knees tilting inward as her thighs clench.

Ada doesn’t stop. Her left arm stays firmly around Hecate, and her right hand rocks again, fingers curling inside Hecate as her thumb strums against Hecate’s clit with steady pressure.

Hecate is going to absolutely shatter into nothingness, she’s certain of it. But oh, if this is the last memory she ever has, she can’t imagine anything better that being completely wrapped up in Ada’s body, completely underneath the power of this woman, completely under the direct focus of her love and lust.

Her toes are curling, feet sliding and slipping on the tile as she fights the urge to simply lock her thighs together under the strain of the tension building in her body again, hands scrabbling against Ada’s hips, trying not to tear her fingernails into the woman. Her throat is pushing out sounds without any effort at all, the volume rising in tandem with the heat mounting inside her. She can hear the heaviness of Ada’s breathing behind her, and her thighs tremble at the thought of just how she’s affecting her lover (oh, she’s going to repay Ada a thousand times over for this, she’s going to absolutely _fuck_ that woman senseless, as soon as she can, her teeth ache with just how much she wants to devour the woman behind her, in this moment).

She lets her emotions tumble out through her vocal chords, finding herself still shocked at just how loud she’s being, and how too far gone she is to care at all.

In a brief flash, Ada wonders if Hecate might actually break the silencing spell with the force of her screams. Because there’s no other way to classify her noises now—her lover is _screaming_ , the room so full of her voice that it feels as if the walls will tumble down around them under the assault.

She feels an overwhelming sense of pride—both at Hecate for breaking through this wall, for allowing herself to be so brave and so open in this moment, and at herself for being able to elicit such wildness from a woman renowned for restraint and ironclad control.

She feels the full-body clench of Hecate’s muscles, and she knows that the moment of release has come. Hecate lets out a long, feminine noise, so scorchingly erotic that Ada’s brain short-circuits. Hecate’s hips are still rocking, slowly riding out her orgasm against Ada’s fingers, her thighs pressed so tightly together that Ada couldn’t remove her hand even if she wanted to. Ada covers the sweat drenched skin of her neck and shoulder with light kisses, cooing her adoration and pride with small hums between each kiss.

Finally, Hecate’s thighs melt, sliding open to release Ada as her body fully slumps against the blonde. Ada’s right arm shifts to take the weight, holding Hecate up against her as her left hand comes up to stroke Hecate’s hair, her neck, her shoulder, down her arm to trace small patterns against the pulse on her wrist.

“You are absolutely perfect, you know that?” Ada keeps her voice low, too heavy with pride and adoration to raise it any louder. Hecate is smiling, so peaceful and proud of herself that Ada can’t help but kiss her temple. “I love you, you brave, beautiful thing.”

Hecate’s skin is rippling under Ada’s words. She feels shining, golden, all the things that Ada tells her that she is. She wants to tell Ada how she feels, wants to thank her, to reciprocate her feelings of love, but her throat feels too dry, too overused at the moment. So she simply lets herself receive Ada’s adoration and affections, knowing that her vulnerability in this moment is something else Ada loves, something Ada sees a gift, something Ada craves and needs just as much as Hecate does.

She turns her head slightly, angling so that she can kiss Ada fully, even if the position causes a strain in her neck. The kiss is slow, reassuring and melting, grounding, filled with all the things that Hecate can’t quite say yet.

Still, she does try. As soon as their lips part, Hecate speaks, her voice raspy, “Ada, I—”

“Shh,” Ada places another gentle kiss on Hecate’s forehead. She can sense how spent her lover is, how much effort simple words are. “I think you’ve been vocal enough for the evening.”

Hecate give a light, breathless chuckle. She feels so relaxed that she could fall asleep right here, so happily exhausted. Ada’s fingertip is still tracing designs on her wrist.

With a small smile, Hecate realizes the design is a heart. Over and over again.


End file.
